Filament
by Jeice Lover
Summary: "He didn't know when his life shattered and fell apart into so many different pieces. His few short years had been full of love and happiness and warmth... Then War had come." A young boy with red hair, still an innocent child, must struggle to comprehend and survive this place that was once his home. But what will surviving cost his body and mind? (Prequel to I Don't Remember You)


He didn't know when his life shattered and fell apart into so many different pieces. His few short years had been full of love and happiness and warmth. It was just him, Papa, Mama, and his pet fox whom he had named Fluff. Mama was a singer, with a voice almost as pretty as she was. Papa was a simple worker, but a lot of people knew him and liked him a lot. The life they led had been simple and peaceful, living in a quiet place in the town. They called it a town, though it was really a large city full of buildings that reached to the heavens and people of all walks of life.

Then War had come.

The thing that told of its' coming was the fire and smoke and the bombs dropping on them from the air. Mama had screamed as a big boom rocked the house and sent a wave of smoke their way. He had cried aloud from fear, clinging tightly to Fluff as his pet tried to hide by zooming into his lap. Papa had grabbed the family and held them close until the ground stopped shaking and the bombs stopped falling. Papa was a calm, controlled man. Papa gathered up food, clothing, and things they needed, then told the family they were leaving. He had barely managed to get Fluff before Papa made them leave their house. When he asked when they would be going home, Papa didn't answer. It didn't worry him, though, because Papa and Mama always knew what to do.

The people had set up barricades around the city, no one was allowed to leave. They called it a war zone and told people to go home and hide. Papa got angry, pointed a long gun at the man, even though guns were bad and dangerous. Mama told Papa to stop as she rubbed his head to try to keep him calm. Papa put the gun down and yelled angry words at the man at the barricade. The man had held up his own gun, and they were forced to head back into the city.

It rained that first night, it had gotten dark, there were no lamps lit, and they couldn't go home without knowing the way. There were still lots of people around. One family had let them stay with them under a bus stop. Papa hadn't gone to sleep, he sat up with the gun and was watching things, but he dozed off. Mama let him cuddle with her and held him close, they both watched Papa until they drifted off.

There was more fire in the night. He awoke when Mama had picked him up and started to run, still shaky and heavy from sleep. Papa pointed the gun at people, yelled more angry words. Another man came up and pointed the gun at him and Mama. Papa pointed the gun at the man and fired. The man's shirt turned red, then he fell down and didn't get back up. Fluff was tense in his arms, growling and showing teeth. Papa looked angry and scared, so did Mama. His face was pressed into Mama's chest, even though he had already seen the man fall down.

Mama picked him up again and they were running. Papa kept yelling and the gun kept going off. Mama told him to put his hands over his ears and shut his eyes. He did as Mama said, but he could still hear through his hands. He could hear all of it.

That was the end of the first day.

–

He kept his eyes on the ground as he trudged on, keeping all his focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Mama held his hand, dragging him along behind her. Papa was up front, holding the gun over his shoulder. His tummy growled with emptiness, he could hear Fluff crying softly as his fox struggled to keep up.

He picked at his shirt, which was frayed and torn and dirty. They had been able to get home once after the first day, but that was the only time they had been home since. He had asked Papa when they would be able to go home again. He wanted his bed and his room and their table and Papa's big chair and Mama's fluffy blanket with all the colors. Papa had taken him by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. Papa told him they couldn't go back home, because home wasn't there anymore. He nodded and said he understood, though he really didn't. He didn't understand why they had to keep wandering the city they couldn't leave. Papa was taking them through the forest to the desert, where he thought they could hike across and find another place to live.

There was no food when they stopped that night. They had eaten all of it the day before. There had been nothing to eat that morning or that afternoon. Papa had said they would find food before they stopped for the night. They didn't. He held Fluff to him and cried because he wanted, needed food. Papa was rubbing his forehead and Mama was wringing her hands.

Then, Papa stood up, told him to go with Mama to look for berries in the woods. Leave Fluff with Papa to help hunt for meat. He said okay and went with Mama when she took him by the hand. He saw Mama give Papa a look, he didn't know what it meant.

When they got back to camp, they hadn't found any berries. But there was meat over the fire. It smelled good, it was turning and cooking in its' own fat. Papa told him to sit down and they would eat. Papa gave him the biggest piece, he didn't complain. He looked around, asked where Fluff was. Papa gave Mama that look and told him that Fluff had run off, gotten lost. He said okay, didn't eat, but he did when Mama told him to eat. He bit into the meat and ate it slowly, all the time not taking his eyes off of the leather collar that was burning in the fire under the meat with the long tail.

This was the end of the good times.

–

Things were even worse than before. They had made it to the desert, and things hadn't changed at all. There was still no food, and the town seemed far away. So far away. They were almost out of water, and his face and arms were burning red from the sun. His long, white night-shirt, the last of his clothes, were almost ragged. He had worn out his shoes a long time ago, and his feet were burning on the sand. Mama had tried to carry him, but Papa said no. He had to walk for himself. Mama hadn't even argued. His eyes were drooped and glassy, with big, black circles hanging underneath them. He was so thin, always so hungry.

His head drooped down, he kept his eyes on his feet. Mama kept dragging him across the never-ending sand, to the town that they couldn't find. Finally, Papa actually smiled. There, it was a little house built and hidden in the sand. Papa pulled them there. He forced the door open. It was empty, no one had been there for years. But it was shady and cool. He fell down as soon as he walked in and didn't get back up, just pressed his face into the cool dirt. Mama and Papa didn't tell him to get up, it didn't matter if he got any dirtier. Papa said they would stay there for the night, keep going tomorrow. They all fell asleep, so exhausted from all the walking. He asked for food, Papa said there was none. So they slept.

During the night, other people found the house. People with guns. They were screaming and yelling and laughing. Papa was thrown against the wall, he slid down and fell back asleep. The men grabbed Mama, tried to make her take off her clothes, he didn't know why. One of them slammed a fist into his face, hit him directly in the eye. He held his eye as he cried out from the hurt. The same person grabbed his hair and pulled him up, he screamed and cried from the pain. He struggled weakly, crying for Mama and Papa to help him. Mama was crying, Papa didn't say anything. He was so scared, he wanted the man to let go. The man had to let go!

Then, the man let him go. The man fell on top of him, pushing him to the ground. The other men screamed and ran from the house, yelling bad words as they went. Papa started to wake up, rubbing his head. Mama was still crying and pulling on her clothes. He was crying too, pressed into the ground by the man on top of him. The man didn't move, and he felt something warm and wet leaking onto him, soaking him and his white shirt. Papa finally came to him, pulled the man off of him. Mama and Papa looked at him, scared. He felt something new, something different. That thing disappeared when he felt something break apart and fall around him in white bits of light. Mama fell on her knees and hugged him, crying into his hair. Papa pushed the man to the other wall. His tummy growled, he was still so hungry. So hungry and tired and scared. He cried himself to sleep in Mama's arms. Papa shut the door and held his gun ready.

There was a sandstorm the next day, they couldn't leave. And it went on to the next day. By then, he was crying off and on for food. Papa slowly gave each of them a bit of water, but it wasn't enough. Eventually, he stopped crying, too weak to do anything but lie in Mama's arms. Mama put him down, went to talk to Papa. He watched them whisper to each other out of one eye, while they thought he was sleeping. Papa whispered something and pointed to the man, who was still lying there against the wall.

Mama got angry and yelled at Papa. 'It' would be going too far and 'it' would damn them to hell. She yelled bad words at him Papa yelled back at her. How 'it' was the only way and if they didn't do 'it' then they would all die. Mama was crying as she yelled at Papa. Then Mama punched Papa in the face, on the cheek. Papa slapped Mama, the slap made Mama's cheek turn red. He was scared, he had never seen Mama and Papa yelling and hitting each other like this. He started crying quietly, he had no energy to sob. Mama looked like a stone, not angry or anything. She said for Papa to do what had to be done and went to sit by him. She took him into her lap and petted his hair, which was crusted with red from the man. He felt himself falling asleep as he saw Papa make a fire. It lit up the little house, he could see the man lying there, eyes and mouth wide open. A picture of a rose was on his shoulder.

When he woke up, he smelled something that made his mouth water. Mama had shaken him awake, Mama's face was hard and angry. Papa looked tired and old. Papa handed something to him. Meat. It was meat, after so long. Mama took a piece, too. Mama's face was still so angry. He looked down at the meat in his hands. It was dripping with fat, it smelled so good. Mama looked like she didn't want him to eat, but Papa told him to.

He opened his mouth and bit into his meat, the meat with a picture of a rose on it. Mama sobbed and whispered, they were all going to hell, and Mama ate the meat that Papa gave her. There were tears going down Mama's face as she ate, and Papa's head was bowed. He ate his meat, it tasted so good and rich. Mama kept crying, he didn't know why, the meat with the rose on it tasted so good. He never noticed that the man against the wall was missing pieces. The rose meat just tasted so good.

After they were finished eating, and he got up and tried to walk, he saw something floating in front of the man. It was blue and shiny, it drew him to it. For some reason, he felt his mouth water as he looked at it, and something besides his stomach wanted him to eat it. He reached out a hand for it, mouth slightly open. Papa saw him and stopped him from taking it. Papa told him that he couldn't eat the blue thing. That would make him something that was worse than a demon. He promised he wouldn't eat it, and he left it alone.

–

They had made their way out of the desert and to the forest. He was relieved when they were under the shady trees, with no sun beating down on his head. Then, they found a miracle. A stream. An actual stream filled to the bank with cool, clear water. He fell down beside it and stuck his head into the water, letting it wash by him and cool his head. He gulped it in greedily, up to the point where Papa had to pull him up so he wouldn't run out of air. He clutched at his tummy, a sudden cramp squeezing it like a vise. Mama told him he was okay, he had just drunk too fast.

Papa filled up their water further upstream. Mama said she was going to wash him. She had him go in with his red-stained night-shirt on, to let the river wash it all away. She muttered to herself as she carefully scrubbed his bright red hair with her hands as he sat in the water. So much red, she whispered, so much red. He tensed as he felt her scrub his head harder than before. So much red. So much red. He could feel her shaking as she scrubbed him. He cried out in pain as Mama dug her nails into his scalp, breathing heavily as she shakily spoke aloud. So much red. He cried for Mama to stop it, and she did. There was red dripping from his head, dropping into the water. It hurt so much. Mama stared at her hands, which were now stained with red. Mama started crying and pulled him into a hug. Mama apologized again and again.

He could feel something odd, something that was inside of Mama. He felt something like the blue ball from the man with the rose shoulder back in the desert. Mama had one like it, so did Papa. He felt something black and squirmy with three red eyes try to wrap around Mama's blue ball, try to get inside of it. He leaned against her and felt the black squiggly. He found that he could made the squiggly move, or, make Mama's blue ball make the squiggly move. He had her push it away, and away, until it was all gone.

Papa came back, Mama didn't say anything to him. They slept in a cave in a rock face next to the stream. He was up early the next day, felt thirsty, wanted more water. He shook Papa awake to take him to the stream. Papa followed him as he made his way to the water. He hardly looked at it as he went on his knees and brought water up to his mouth in his hands. It tasted strange, metallic and wrong. Suddenly, Papa hit him on the back, made him spit it out. He looked through his hair, which was by now past his shoulders, like Mama's, at the water.

The stream, which had been clear and clean the day before, was stained pinkish-red. The water was babbling and sloshing by smoothly, but it was stained with red so it was pink. He stood up, tried to turn back to Papa, but slipped and fell backwards into the stream. His head hit the water first, and the stream, so deep, swept him down into its' depths. He couldn't make himself try to swim, something made him be still. He found himself looking down, towards the dark bottom. He tried to breathe, but he sucked in water instead of air. He closed his eyes, felt himself sink lower.

Then, an arm wrapped around him, Papa's arm. Papa pulled him back up, out of the pink water, and back to shore. He coughed and spat, Papa rubbed his back and he felt himself throw up water. Papa then held him close and rubbed his back, trying to soothe him. Papa took him back to Mama, holding on tightly to his hand. He followed Papa, letting himself be dragged.

–

They didn't reach the town. The desert had turned them around, confused them. They found themselves back in their own town. It was ruined. The streets he once knew were damaged and full of barricades. There were almost no people, and the people that were left were angry and didn't show themselves. He saw a girl he knew, his neighbor from another time. Her papa glared at his family and pulled the neighbor girl away. People were angrier.

There were guns going off from different directions, constantly. There were explosions every few minutes, the glow of fire on the horizon. He turned his head listlessly, constantly, trying to see everything around him. He had to turn his head a lot now, ever since the man had hit him, his right eye was going blurry and dark. He didn't say anything to Mama or Papa, though, they were already so worried and scared. They didn't see anything wrong, so it must have just been him thinking too much.

They managed to stay around for three days, getting by with trading and hunting down smaller animals they could eat. Things were getting better, despite the fires and bombs and guns. They could live. Mama was able to tell him stories again. He liked it when Mama told stories. He could listen to her voice, let it soothe him as he lost himself in the wonderful visions of stories. He loved stories. When Mama used to read to him, he started learning how to read books. He wished they still had books. Things were almost good.

Then the witches came.

There were three of them, all of them with different animal clothes. Laughing cruelly, they destroyed what the war hadn't touched yet. Buildings crumbled and the ground shook. People screamed and ran like when the bombs were going off. He ran after Mama and Papa, couldn't keep up. Mama saw and ran back for him and carried him away. Something made the ground shake, threw them all off their feet. He landed hard, it hurt so much. Mama had fallen and Papa ran to help her. They ran under a small cover, trying to run through it, but a boom shook the ground again, and the cover fell around them. He cried out for Mama and Papa, so terrified.

Something hard hit him in the back of the head. He fell to his knees, the sight in his good eye went white, and as he hit the ground, everything went black.

He woke up a while later, head hurting, body sore. He coughed as he breathed in, his mouth, throat, and nose were filled with ash, his body was coated in it, his hair too. His shirt was stained with fresh red. He coughed more and looked around, weakly called for Mama and Papa. He was on his knees, he couldn't pull himself to his feet. Then he saw it.

He saw Mama's sleeve, her hand, but that was it. There was nothing else of Mama. He couldn't see Papa anywhere, only one of Papa's shoes lying on the ground. Just one. The rest of Mama was under a pile of rubble. He grabbed Mama's arm and shook it, tried to make Mama wake up and climb out from the rubble. To have her hold him and tell him everything was alright. She didn't move when he shook her the first time, to he tried again. Mama still didn't move. He shook Mama's arm again and again, softly saying her name to try to make her wake up. He could feel Mama's hand in his, cold and limp. His vision started to blurr with tears as he realized what it meant.

Mama was dead, Papa too. Just like Fluff and the man with the rose on his arm and his friends and his home. Everything was gone, everyone was dead. He sniffled, felt the tears stream down his face. He bowed his head and wailed out. He cried for everything. For Mama. For Papa. For Fluff. For all the pain. For being alone. For his one sightless eye. For his destroyed home. Everything.

His wails and sobs carried out around him, deaf to the bodies all around him. He still gripped Mama's sleeve as his cries shook his body. His eyes were shut tight, he was blinded by his tears. He cried until his eyes were almost dry and until his throat was raw and sore. Then he simply knelt there and shook, letting out whimpers and trembling as the last few tears he had in him dripped off of his chin, splashing into the topsoil of dust and ash beneath him.

He saw breathing in, still crying, when he felt the fingers gently touch his chin. He was too tired to be scared, and he let them push his face upwards. He was looking as gentle, cool fingers slowly brushed the tears from his eyes. And he found himself looking up at someone. Someone with pictures of snakes on their arms and a black hood covering their face.


End file.
